


Brightest Gift

by padfootagain



Category: Jackie & Ryan (2014)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 11:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootagain/pseuds/padfootagain
Summary: It’s Christmas and Ryan wonders if he should stay or go.





	Brightest Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for an event on tumblr with the prompts :  
> 15\. “This is for you.”  
> 25\. “You can’t sing, but it’s kinda cute.”  
> 33\. “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”  
> Hope you like this!

Gingerbread. Sugar. Mint. Orange. Spices. Chocolate. A warm fire. Chestnuts. The air was filled with those fragrances, and Ryan breathed them all in. It smelled like warmth and happiness.

It smelled like Christmas.

He looked at the snow falling outside, covering the busy streets where people hurried still, carrying bags full of colourful boxes, running to deliver their gifts to their friends or family. He watched the soft snowflakes falling slowly compared to the strangers’ hurried steps. He watched the decorated lamppost, the pale morning light shining against the bright colours wrapped around the metallic lamps. The rooftops were covered with frost, the windowpanes blurred with condensed water. He could see the breathing of the people hurrying across the street turn into smoke. But in the safe warmth of your flat, his old pullover was enough to keep him warm.

He should have left weeks ago. But you had blamed the frost and the snow to convince him to stay with you for a bit longer. Then, Christmas had arrived, and you couldn’t let him spend the celebration alone in a cold train. And so here he was, still sitting on your sofa before the hearth were a fire was cracking, the Christmas tree you had decorated together right next to him, gifts placed right before it. He smiled at the memory of the afternoon the two of you had spent decorating this tree. It had been a long time since he had been this happy.

If he was to be completely honest, he wasn’t bothered by you constantly trying to convince him to stay with you, to delay his departure. Because deep down inside of him, he knew the truth.

He didn’t want to leave you.

He didn’t think he would ever have the strength to pack his things and walk out the door and live for months without you.

Perhaps it was time for him to settle down…

But he was torn away from his thoughts by the sound of your naked feet hurrying across the flat.

“ _MERRY CHRISTMAS!_ ” you shouted, lunging yourself at him, and Ryan fell from the sofa, holding you in his arms and laughing.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed, still laughing as his back hit the wooden floor.

“Sorry, you’re alright?” you asked, giggling.

He nodded, still laughing. If he was already dressed you were still wearing your pajamas and one of his warm pullovers that was way too big for you. Your hair was still disheveled from sleep, but your eyes were already filled with happiness and excitement.

Once he had calmed down, a grin remained stuck on Ryan’s lips at the sight of you.

“You’re already dressed and all!” you exclaimed. “When did you wake up?”

“A bit more than an hour ago. So I took a shower.”

“Hmm… you do smell good,” you nodded, pressing your face in the crook of his neck and breathing deeply the scent of his apple shampoo.

He chuckled.

“So… are you going to keep lying on me like that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, a smirk on his face.

“You’re comfortable,” you nodded, making him laugh again.

“You don’t want to open your gifts?”

You looked up at him, an excited smile on your face.

“You bought me gifts?” you asked.

He nodded.

“You want to open them?”

You nodded enthusiastically, finally sitting up. You crawled towards the tree, sitting next to the boxes that were set there.

“They’re all for me?” you asked looking at the three little boxes.

“Who else could they be for?” Ryan replied, crawling as well to join you next to the tree and wrapping his arms around you from behind.

He dropped a sweet kiss on your neck, the soft sensation making you close your eyes.

You picked the blue one first and quickly tore the paper apart. You grinned at the sight of the old book you had seen with him in an old bookshop a few weeks before, but hadn’t dared to buy.

“Thank you,” you grinned, turning your head to kiss his lips.

You put the book down on the ground next to you, and picked up the green box.

“No, open the other one first,” Ryan stopped you, and you happily complied, grabbing the red box.

You laughed at the sight of the little plant set in an orange flowerpot, the little green leaves brushing against the edges.

“You’re kidding me!” you swatted him playfully on the shoulder, before kissing him.

“You need to practice. I’m sure you can manage to keep this one alive. This one is simple. You just have to give it water once a week, I’m sure you can do it.”

“That’s not nice to tease. I’ve never managed to keep a single plant alive more than a month yet!”

He chuckled, pressing his lips against yours again.

“I’m not teasing, I’m offering you practice.”

“What makes you think that I have a chance to keep this poor thing alive when I’ve always miserably failed before.”

“I’ll remind you to take care of it.”

Your smile, slowly faded, and you looked away.

“You would have to be here for that,” you whispered.

His smile faltered as well, and he rested his forehead against your shoulder, but you cleared your throat before he could reply.

“And so… the last one!”

The excitement was back on your face, and Ryan chose to remain silent. No need to discuss about all this now. For now, he just wanted to see this bright smile on your lips.

You picked up the green box again, and you frowned at the sight of the dirty notebook. You recognized the worn-out cover in the blink of an eye, knowing perfectly what was written upon the twisted and torn pages, but frowning all the same.

“I don’t understand…” you breathed, looking at him again.

“All my songs are in there,” he said softly. “All the ones I wrote since I’ve met you.”

“But why do you give it to me?”

He shrugged.

“You wanted to read them, right?”

You smiled.

“I’d rather hear them.”

He laughed, blushing hard.

“One step at a time,” he mumbled.

You rested your back against his chest, your head touching his cheek, and you looked at the notebook in your hands, turning slowly the pages, reading the lyrics and smiling.

They were all love songs.

“Who are they about?” you asked him softly.

He kissed your temple.

“You.”

You grinned, kissing him tenderly one more time.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I love you too.”

Ryan smiled, before letting you get up.

“So… time for you to have your gifts as well I guess,” you chimed, walking in the adjacent room to pick up the gifts you had hidden for him.

He grinned as he saw you reappear with a large box and a tiny one.

“ _This is for you,_ ” you smiled, handing him the larger box.

“What is it?” he asked, still grinning.

“Open it and you’ll see.”

He took cautiously the large box, tearing the paper apart, and gasped at the sight of the surprise that laid inside, his brown eyes growing wide.

He carefully lifted the guitar up, staring at it with his eyes full of awe.

“But… it’s…” he stuttered, awestruck. “You can’t… I can’t accept this, it’s too much…”

“Actually you can accept it,” you replied, kissing his cheek. “And you will.”

You watched his grin for a moment while he admired the guitar, getting into position and starting to play. He had such a bright smile on his face.

“So… do you like it?” you asked softly.

He nodded slowly.

“This is amazing,” he breathed, looking up at you again.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“How could I not like it?”

“I don’t know much about music,” you shrugged. “I could have… I don’t know… chosen the wrong guitar.”

“It’s beautiful. But really, it’s too much.”

“No, it’s not. And… the guitar goes with responsibilities.”

“Does it?”

You nodded, brushing the tip of your nose against his and making him smile.

“Now, you have no excuse, and you have to play something for me every day.”

He laughed, blushing slightly again.

“Every day?” he asked again, resting his brow against yours.

You nodded, humming in agreement.

“I love hearing you sing,” you said, grinning.

“You said that I had to play, not sing.”

“I also love to hear you play, so that’s okay.”

He cupped your cheek, a tender smile on his face.

“What did I do to deserve someone like you?” he whispered, his brown eyes set upon your gaze.

You blushed, before kissing his lips one more time.

“Here’s your other gift,” you said, and there was something sadder in your eyes now, your smile suddenly melancholic rather than happy.

He put the guitar away delicately, before he would take the little box. He frowned at the sight of a map of the city you lived in and its surroundings.

“What…?”

He unfolded it, and spotted a dark circle drawn around your address.

“Why are you giving me this?” he asked softly.

“To make sure you’ll remember where I live,” you whispered.

He saw you brushing a tear away from your eyes, and you forced a smile onto your lips.

“You know…” you went on, shrugging. “After several months away, just in case you forget my address or… how to come back here…”

He cupped your cheek again, staring straight into your eyes.

“It’s very nice of you, but I won’t need it,” he reassured you.

You could see that his eyes were shining with withheld tears as well.

“How can you be so sure that you will remember?” you asked in a shaking whisper.

He folded the map again and put it away. He stared at the guitar you had bought for him, before heaving a sigh.

It wasn’t worth it…

“I won’t need it because… because I’m not leaving.”

You frowned hard, forcing him to look at you by taking his chin between your fingertips.

“What do you mean?” you asked, puzzled.

“I’m not leaving. I mean… unless you want me to but… I don’t intend to leave.”

“But… I don’t understand. For how long are you planning to stay then?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

He blushed again, before shrugging, his eyes tender and somehow sheepish at the same time.

“A lifetime would be great,” he whispered, a smile slowly forming on his lips.

A grin slowly appeared across your face as well.

“Really? You mean it?” you asked, your voice shaking and your gaze full of hope.

He nodded.

“Yeah, I mean it. Anyway I… I don’t think I could… make any good song without you anymore. So what’s the point in leaving?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him tightly against you, and he soon imprisoned you in a tight embrace as well.

“I’m so glad you’re staying,” you whispered. “I love you, Ryan.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, his low tone matching yours.

You remained sitting there, between the warm hearth and the large decorated tree for a long while, holding on each other tightly, exchanging tender kisses now and then.

And Ryan knew he had taken the right decision. It was time. He had found someone who made him want to stay so much, the feeling of freedom that ran through his veins every time he travelled across the country didn’t seem appealing anymore. He knew that the gap you would leave into his heart was too large and deep to be filled with guitar strings and beautiful landscapes.

“Are you hungry?” you asked after a long comfortable silence. “I’ll make pancakes if you want.”

He smiled.

“I’m starving,” he nodded.

You picked up the boxes and pieces of paper scattered all around the two of you and walked towards the kitchen, humming a Christmas song. Ryan smiled at the sound, and he took his brand new guitar, playing to match the melody you were humming.

Your humming turned into some singing and he laughed loudly.

“What?” you asked, before resuming your merry singing while you prepared breakfast.

“Nothing, you’re cute,” he grinned, sitting at the table right behind you so he could watch you bake.

“Am I?” you asked, never stopping to sing out of tune, inventing the lyrics you had forgotten.

“ _You can’t sing, but it’s kinda cute_ ,” he laughed.

You only sang more loudly, and he grinned and winced at the same time.

“What? We can’t all be as talented in music as you are,” you replied, putting some sugar on his nose to shut him up.

He merely laughed again in response, never stopping to play.

“But then, I don’t have your talent to bake pancakes,” he shrugged.

“See, can’t be good at everything.”

You resumed your terrible but happy singing, swaying slowly to the music while you baked. And a dreamy smile never left Ryan’s lips as he watched in silence, still forming the notes on the strings of his guitar, but not paying much attention to it. He had this warm feeling in his heart, this feeling he had been looking for for so long, and he knew that it was this search for this precise feeling that had pushed him to travel all around the country for all those years. But as he watched you then, dancing and singing, your hands covered with flour, wearing his oversized pullover, he knew he had found what he had always been looking for.

He was home.


End file.
